Chapter 1Reborn to Send My Roommate to Prison

My roommate, Lily Kingsley, started stealing takeout, ballooning from ninety pounds to one hundred and fifty, turning into a veritable human blimp. Later, she wanted me to join her, but I refused. I told her it was wrong, but she just thought I was ungrateful.

Eventually, the school caught on to her thievery and expelled her. She blamed me for reporting her. So, on the day she came back to pack her things, she pushed me from the top floor. She then claimed my job, the one I had worked so hard for, and promptly started dating my fiancé.

I died consumed by hatred. But then I opened my eyes again. To my shock, I was back on the very first day Lily Kingsley started stealing takeout.

* * *

A rustle at the dorm door, and then it swung open. I watched as my roommate, Lily Kingsley, entered, juggling two large bags of takeout. She plopped down, opened the containers, and a delicious aroma wafted through the room. "What did you guys have for lunch?" she asked, oblivious. I stared at the bags in her hands, a chilling realization dawning on me. In my previous life, this was the day Lily started stealing takeout. Her first haul was two full meals.

She got away with it—a roasted duck and a milk tea—and from that moment, she grew increasingly brazen. Soon, she was pilfering four or five meals a day. When no one pursued her, she started taking packages too. Her desk began to overflow with designer makeup, handbags, and jewelry. Later, she expanded her operations, stealing takeout across the entire campus, randomly snatching orders from under dorm buildings, grabbing whatever looked appealing. The takeout packaging grew increasingly luxurious: sometimes it was from a high-end hotpot place, sometimes a whole durian.

Back then, I often wondered how she, a fellow scholarship student with an allowance of only $800 a month, could afford such lavish meals. It wasn't until we were working on a group project that she approached me. "If you help me with this part, I'll give you something good." I was curious what she meant by "something good," so I pressed her. "What kind of good thing?" she whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. "Whatever takeout you want, I'll steal it for you. No, I mean, I'll get it for you." She then watched my reaction, a smug look on her face. I quickly waved my hands, refusing. "No, no, I can do this part, it's fine. You don't have to do that." But she interpreted my refusal as disdain, and from that moment on, she silently resented me.